


i am one with you, and you are with me

by plantyourtreeswithme



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Force-Sensitive Baze Malbus, Jedi Chirrut Îmwe, Jedi Temple, M/M, Married Chirrut Îmwe/Baze Malbus, Padawan Chirrut Îmwe, Pre-Canon, Temple of the Whills, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 10:05:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11056698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantyourtreeswithme/pseuds/plantyourtreeswithme
Summary: He felt Baze’s radiant presence somewhere in the cheering crowd, and he angled his body towards his glowing spirit as he shakily got to his feet. The Guardian was incandescent with pride, illuminated by the Force, and Chirrut couldn’t help but grin.





	i am one with you, and you are with me

**Author's Note:**

> Major spoilers for _Rogue One: A Star Wars Story_ , obviously.
> 
> Some dialogue [from _Rogue One: A Star Wars Story_](http://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/movie_script.php?movie=rogue-one-a-star-wars-story) was used.

Baze absolutely hated Jedha.

The only reason he was there was because of the job - simple enough; find the kyber crystals, steal them without attracting any attention, and vacate the moon within a few days, if all went according to plan. He had an easy tactic that had never failed him as a bounty hunter: tail them for a while, make sure they catch a glimpse of you a few times to make sure they're scared, and then break into their house and/or safe. In and out.

_In and out._

He'd found the target relatively easily, followed them through the marketplace a few times, and then moved to strike. This one in particular refused to remove the kyber crystals from their person, carrying them in a satchel next to their blaster. He would have to kill them if they didn't hand over the cargo of their own volition.

Baze, lurking in the alleyway outside of a bar, raised his own blaster rifle and locked his eyes on the sight, focusing on the doorway the mark was leaning against. He figured that that was how he'd missed the wooden staff smacking against the barrel of his gun and knocking it to the ground.

"When someone is about to kill, the Force around them becomes dark," the short, gangly man who had stopped him from finishing the job had said.

Baze grunted and bent down to pick up the blaster, aiming it at the man in front of him. He looked barely of age, probably only twenty or twenty-one; whereas Baze was nearing twenty-three, and had the obvious physical advantage over the other man. After a quick once-over, however, he realized that there was no way he could shoot the kid - besides his obvious drawback in size (and the fact that Baze really didn't feel like beating up some poor, law-abiding citizen), his eyes were milky and sightless.

So instead of squeezing the trigger and loosing a blaster bolt, he switched the safety back on and sighed. "The Force?" he scoffed, taking in the long, fine braid resting against the young man's shoulder. It seemed out of place compared to the rest of the young man's hair, cropped short in a buzz cut in need of a trim. "You mean that weird religion all those Jedi people are into?"

The man smiled sheepishly, displaying a set of dazzingly white teeth. "Sure, whatever you want to call it," he said; and with that, he turned tail and walked away.

Against his own will, Baze followed him.

The blind man ambled down the alley they had been standing in, tapping the worn stone with his quarterstaff and shuffling his bare feet, kicking up dust. Baze wasn't sure if it was an act - if the man could actually see, or perhaps feel, his surroundings perfectly well by use of the magic-like Force - or if he was truly helpless. How a blind beggar had lived to see adulthood in Jedha City, Baze didn't know; but if this stranger hadn't been lying in his seemingly careless mention of the Force, then perhaps he had had help.

After a while, it became clear that the man was slowly but surely making his way towards the Temple of the Whills. That explained his ramblings about the crazy belief system that belonged to the Jedi, but it flooded Baze's mind with more questions, most of which were a variant of  _who exactly is this man to stop me from completing my job and collecting my fee?_

He lost sight of the monk when a few Gigorans shoved into him, but once he had passed them, he found him again and sped up to tread a few paces behind.

"Are you planning on killing me, too?" the stranger asked, not bothering to turn around so as to let his pursuant hear him more clearly.

"How do you know I'm following you?" Baze said in response.

"I am always guided. I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me." There was a slight pause, and Baze could practically hear the smile in his voice as he added, "And you're not exactly quiet, you know. That heavy armor and those blazing blasters and - oh, that strikingly obvious masculinity! To be such a man and  _not_ make noise when you grace others with your presence must be such a burden."

Baze struggled not to laugh at the bold flirtations, succeeding only by asking, "What is your name? And how do you, a Force-worshipping hermit, have such a quick tongue?"

"Chirrut Îmwe," Chirrut responded, finally tossing an albeit sightless glance over his shoulder at Baze. "And I'm not a Force-worshipper  _or_ a hermit. I simply follow the path the Force lays out for me - and I definitely don't live in isolation, so you're wrong there. As for my wordplay - well, the loss of one sense tends to sharpen the others. I consider wit my sixth, seeing as how one of the others is completely useless."

He chuckled at that, lowering his eyes for a few moments as he laughed. When he looked up again, he realized that they were standing in front of the temple. Chirrut sank down in front of the doors and balanced his quarterstaff on his crossed legs, assuming a meditative position.

"I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me," he chanted. "I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me. I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me..."

Baze shook his head a few times and turned away. "You're crazy, Chirrut Îmwe," he informed him. Chirrut did not seem to hear.

There was no sign of the monk when he looked back, and he wondered if he had imagined the whole exchange.

 

* * *

 

_I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me. I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me. I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me. I am one with -_

There was a rush of air, and Chirrut opened his eyes, feeling as if he'd just emerged from underwater.

The bounty hunter he had encountered nearly two weeks ago - the one he had stopped from killing that poor Bothan in the bar - was outside the temple.

"Tell him to leave," he told the Guardian of the Whills who had brought him the news. "He has no business marring the sanctity of our holy ground."

"He asked specifically for you, Padawan Îmwe."

"Well, say that I'm resting because I have to leave tomorrow." It was true; he and his master were required on Coruscant to attend the knighting of a new Jedi Chirrut had never heard of.

The Guardian bowed and left, and he rose to his feet, clambering out of his pose of meditation, disrobing, and climbing into bed. He slept fitfully, aware on some level that the gunslinger outside the temple still hadn't left.

When he woke, he immediately knew that his visitor was waiting outside, having apparently spent the night there. Chirrut got dressed in his cleanest tunic and put on a new set of robes that his master insisted he wore ("to impress our hosts," he kept repeating enthusiastically). He extended his arms out into the open room, using the Force to simultaneously summon his staff and tuck a few overnight essentials into a worn knapsack. Within seconds, his staff was in his hand, and he gripped it tightly as he left his quarters.

He flitted through the temple like a bird, humming a tune with no melody and passing several other Padawans as he walked. He felt rather than saw their presence, the Force guiding him between them so that he did not run into anyone. It was an elaborate dance - not that Chirrut had ever danced, of course; he would eagerly listen to his friends, though, when they described what it was like to twirl around each other at the temple's more informal festivals.

Gela, the Guardian who determined who could enter and exit the temple, was holding the massive doors open for Chirrut when he was suddenly struck with an idea. "Thank you, Gela," he said, turning around energetically, "but I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Where are you - ?"

"One moment!" he called over his shoulder, weaving back through the crowded hall and making his way towards the stairs.

He ascended like a madman, skipping two steps at a time and hoping he wouldn't fall. The Force led him to the sixth floor: the workshop where Padawans and Guardians alike would hone their allotted kyber crystals for exportation (and for lightsabers).

Chirrut's ears rang with the chiming of the crystals, but he had discovered in the early stages of his training that he was the only youngling with this ability. The gift of Kyber's Call was rare even in Jedi masters, many of whom trained for years to block out the noises of the universe and focus only on the Force.

He had always been able to hear it - when he passed over certain spots in the ground where the earth below was rich with kyber, he would hear the familiar peal of the translucent minerals, reminiscent of windchimes. When he had been brought to the temple's workshop for the first time at the age of five, he had apparently covered his ears and cried, completely overstimulated.

But by now, he had become used to the crystals' deafening noise, and as he traipsed through the room, searching for his own desk, he ignored it. The precious stones he was proud to call his own were right where he had left them on the tabletop, and he snatched them up, weighing them in his palm. Four would be enough, he decided, tucking a few of them into a small drawstring pouch and carrying them back downstairs.

When he approached the temple's doors again, he sensed that the mercenary was standing with his back to him on the other side, looking around uneasily as if he was expecting one of the hundreds of Jedi vacating their haven to attack him. Chirrut slipped outside and approached him quietly, zigzagging through the crowd of people departing for the knighting ceremony on Coruscant.

"What are you doing here?" he asked when he thought he was close enough, and he heard the other man whip around at the sound of his voice.

"Waiting for you," came the somewhat startled reply.

"Why?"

"You told me your name, but I never told you mine." There was a pause, and Chirrut nearly laughed, thinking,  _Feeble at best._ Then: "It's Baze Malbus."

"Nice to meet you," Chirrut said, his lips curving in a hint of a smile. "I would shake your hand, but I can't see it, so..."

He knew that Baze was grinning, as well. "Despite your lack of vision, you seem to get around just fine."

"I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me," Chirrut responded, resuming his pace again towards the temple's docking zone. "That's the only explanation I can come up with."

"Are you a Force-user?" Baze asked, falling into step beside him.

"To some extent. I'm training as a Padawan under a Jedi master."

"You seem very talented with this so-called Force. That is," Baze added, clearing his throat, "if it even exists, anyway."

"Oh, it exists," Chirrut laughed, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. "Even if you don't believe in it, it still exists. It's produced by every living thing in the universe, and it surrounds and permeates everything."

It was Baze's turn to laugh. "How can you have such blind faith in something you cannot prove?"

"It's all I've ever known."

Baze was quiet at that, and Chirrut could tell he was watching him as he turned and entered the docking bay.

"Wait," came Baze's low timbre, and he pulled on the draping fabric of Chirrut's cloak. "Tell me more about the Force?"

Chirrut smiled and pried his sleeve from the bounty hunter's grasp. "I will," he promised, "when I get back." Suddenly remembering what he had meant to do, he held his hand out towards what he hoped was Baze - the Force could only guide him to some extent - proffering the small leather purse to the bounty hunter.

"What's this?"

"Compensation," Chirrut grinned. "I figured you wouldn't be able to collect your reward for killing that Bothan - since I stopped you, you know. You were trying to steal kyber crystals from him, right?"

"Yes," Baze said slowly, taking the pouch. A soft clinking told Chirrut that he had removed the minerals from their casing. "Where did you get these? They - they're worth thousands of credits. I can't take them from you."

"It's a gift!" came the merry reply. "To say no would be rude."

"I -"

"I'll see you in a few days," Chirrut interrupted, leaving a stupefied Baze behind him as he made his way towards the dispatched ship.

 

* * *

 

The festivities were... taxing, to say the least.

First there had been the Feast of Welcome and Good Cheer - it was traditional for guests of Coruscant's temple to be fed, watered, and entertained the moment they set foot on the holy ground, so Chirrut couldn't get out of that - and then there was the "pre-party," where everyone else celebrated the night before the ceremonies while the Jedi-to-be in question took care of the necessary preparations. Chirrut had spent most of it chatting with his fellow Jedhans, speaking of the winter to come, until a slightly ruddy Master Kaal came over and told him to loosen up and socialize with the other Padawans. He'd obeyed, but only briefly, talking to a Togrutan girl for a while and then losing interest completely.

He retired to his quarters early, making a few shoddy excuses and apologizing to some important-looking strangers before maneuvering back to the wing set aside for visitors. Master Kaal followed several hours later, tripping over his robes as he entered their shared accomodations and waking Chirrut up as he did so. The next morning, the Jedi master was nursing a terrible hangover, and kept complaining that his apprentice's laughter was much too loud.

Then came the actual knighting ceremony itself. Everyone was dressed in formal wear, clad in stately robes of white with the Order's crest emblazoned on their shoulders (or so Chirrut was told). Lightsabers were to be left behind, save the Temple Guards' - and Chirrut's, although that couldn't be helped; his was contained in the tip of his staff, which he had brought with him.

They all exited the temple and gathered at the front of the courtyard, the wind whistling in their ears. Some of the planet's higher-ups were in attendance, as well: several senators, apparently, and even the newly-elected chancellor.

"It's important that the chancellor be seen as an ally of the Jedi Order, and therefore, a perpetuator of peace," Master Kaal whispered to Chirrut as the politician and his party swept past. Chirrut didn't really understand why that meant attending trivial affairs such as knighting ceremonies, but he said nothing.

A hush eventually fell over the congregation, and the Padawan standing before them - wearing a special cloak that Kaal said was the same color as her lightsaber's blade - recited her oaths, her voice thick with tears. Chirrut didn't blame her for crying; it was a momentous occasion in a Jedi's life, after all.

"She's kneeling now," Kaal whispered to his pupil, "they're going to cut her braid with her saber..."

The buzz of the lightsaber igniting was the only sound that could be heard - even the ever-bustling city around them seemed silent - and then there was a loud, crackling hum as the Padawan braid was shorn off. The crowd erupted into cheers, and Chirrut clapped, too, overjoyed. He longed for the day they would all gather for him, Jedi from all corners of the galaxy flocking together to pay homage...

There was another feast, and after that, another party, and then  _another_ party, raging into the early hours of the next day. Chirrut flickered through the celebrations like a waning candle, completely spent. He didn't bother to attend the second reception, knowing that he would need his energy for the long trip home.

They breakfasted, said their goodbyes, and left, returning to the ships the Order had provided. Chirrut drifted in and out of consciousness during the journey back to Jedha, still exhausted from their voyage. When the pilot came and told them in the midst of a long bout through hyperspace that they were only two hours away from home, Chirrut's mind drifted back to the promise he had made Baze Malbus.

"Tell me more about the Force?" Malbus had asked, his voice filled with something akin to trepidation - but also  _hope_. There he was: a blank slate for Chirrut to fill with love for the Force. He was wild and free-spirited and stubborn, but there was a willingness to learn, to be taught the ways of the Order. It was fine if he rejected Chirrut's words, or if he listened only once and never returned for more, or if he refused to be serviced to the temple - just as long as Chirrut said what he needed to say.

After a while, there was a thud, and daylight slipped into the hull of the ship, warming Chirrut's limbs. He unbuckled himself from his seat, seized his staff, and bounded forward, rejuvenated by their arrival. He strolled through the temple grounds with ease, beaming and greeting several people on the way to his chambers.

Chirrut showered, put on a fresh set of clothes, and shaved within an hour, then left the Temple of the Kyber in search of his new friend. He hadn't the slightest idea where the man was, but he trusted that the Force would show him the way.

Indeed, it did; he was inexplicably drawn to a tavern crawling with lowlife a few blocks away from the Holy Quarter. He hadn't expected Baze Malbus to be among them, but after a few succint taps of his stick, he found the bounty hunter sitting at the bar, drinking something that bubbled and fizzed.

"Wha- Chirrut?" Baze said when he turned to find Chirrut Îmwe tapping his shoulder. "How did you - ?"

"Surprised to see a holy man in a pub?"

"I -  _yes_ , but I -"

"You wanted to talk, and I'm here to do just that," Chirrut said. He slid a few credits across the counter to the bartender, effectively putting a stop to Baze's confused remarks, and left, expecting the bounty hunter to follow him.

He did.

"I - I didn't think you were going to come and find me," Baze said, staggering after Chirrut. "I was going to go back to the temple tomorrow and wait for you."

"Well, I saved you the trouble, didn't I?"

"Yes," Baze mused, "and you paid for my drink, too. You didn't have to do that."

"A simple  _thank you_ would suffice," Chirrut huffed.

"Thank you."

They were both quiet for a few moments, and then Baze said, "What are you here to talk about?"

Chirrut's laugh was short and halting. "The Force, of course. That is, if you still want me to talk about it. You seem rather hesitant now."

"No, I just..." Baze faltered. "I, um... I'd rather talk about you, I guess. You seem like an interesting person." Another pause, then: "Could you slow down?"

He obliged. "What would you like to know?"

"Well," said Baze, falling into step beside him, "where did you get those kyber crystals? You... you didn't steal them from the Bothan, did you?"

Chirrut guffawed. "No, they were my own. Unlike you, I'm actually not a thief."

"I'm not a thief, either," the mercenary protested. "I was just doing my job."

"As a bounty hunter, yes!"

"No, I -" Baze stopped, sighed, and changed the subject entirely. "How did you have access to those crystals? Were they a gift?"

"They were my gift to you," Chirrut said, grinning cheekily. "But they were never a gift to me. No, I found them in the kyber mines beneath the temple. Some are out in the wastes, too. There are many in the village where I used to live, I'm told."

"How do you..."

"How do I find them?"

"Mmm."

"They make noise," he explained. "To me, at least. I'm one of the only people who can hear them. They're like little bells, ringing when I come close."

"Why can you hear them and others can't?" Baze asked.

"The Force, I suppose," Chirrut said, then threw in his maxim for good measure: "I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me, after all."

"Right."

They continued on in silence for a few minutes, and Chirrut could practically hear Baze's thoughts racing. He was likely confused, and perhaps even afraid - rumors about the Jedi's "magical powers" were in constant circulation, and Chirrut had heard his fair share of them over the years. Baze had probably heard them, too.

"So how were you introduced to the Force?" Baze suddenly asked, breaking the uneasy silence.

"Like I said before, it's all I've ever known," Chirrut replied. "I was taken from my family when I was very young to be trained at the temple. Then Master Kaal noticed my gifts - like receiving Kyber's Call, amongst other things - and took me on as his apprentice. He's been teaching me ever since."

"That's terrible," the bounty hunter murmured. "Being taken away from your family, I mean. You must miss them very much."

"Not really," Chirrut shrugged. "Master Kaal says my mother's mother was a Guardian of the Whills, and she was Force-sensitive herself, so she understood the importance of sending me here. And I was only two, so I remember very little, if anything at all." There was a beat, and then he asked his own tentative question. "What about your family?"

Baze chuckled at his hesitancy. "I have no siblings, just my parents. I miss my mother all the time; I still send money back home to support her. Those crystals you gave me will help even more."

"What of your father?"

"I don't miss him nearly as much. He's an ass."

"I see."

And again, they had reached the temple. Chirrut was about to say goodnight and head inside, already worn out, when Baze said, "Could you... will you tell me what the Force means to you?"

Chirrut blinked, struggling to speak.

_Well, that was unexpected._

Finally, he came up with an ingenious response: "I, uh... okay."

 

* * *

 

Every night from then on, Baze would come to the temple, and they would sit on the sandy steps and talk - about anything, really. Chirrut learned how Baze had become a hitman (it had been his father's trade, and he'd grown up surrounded by violence on a war-torn planet, so why not?), why he had come to Jedha (to kill that Bothan in the alley, but fortunately, Chirrut himself had kept him from hitting his target), and why he had stayed.

"I met a meddling monk," Baze said every time he asked - and he asked quite often, hoping to coax a better answer out of him.

There was no denying the attraction between them; that must've been the only reason Baze kept returning when the streets of the Holy City had finally quieted, and why Chirrut kept anxiously awaiting his arrival. Yet Chirrut never acted upon his obvious affection for the bigger (in more ways than one) man; the code of the Jedi did not allow it, except in special cases.

Nevertheless, the two were drawn to each other, there was no denying that. As the weeks - and soon, months - passed, Baze seemed more inclined to pursue something deeper than friendship. Chirrut wanted desperately to do just that, but the faith he so passionately followed kept him from suggesting to the brash, rough, sweet, wonderful man that they consummate a romantic relationship.

Baze had no reason to stay on Jedha - Chirrut knew for a fact that he hated it, loathing the contradictory, frostbitten desert and yearning for just a glimpse of sunlight. Chirrut had felt that desire for warmth his entire life, having been born on Jedha, but he knew that he would never leave.

"Some say that the Jedi Order was founded here," he told Baze one frigid, snowy day. They were sitting on the floor of Baze's new apartment, waiting for the furniture to arrive. Baze kept saying that it was all coming the next day and Chirrut didn't have to stay if he didn't want to, but he didn't mind.

"Was it named after Jedha?" Baze asked, watching the fluttering snowflakes through the window.

Chirrut smiled and said, "No, it's actually the opposite. Jedha was named for the Jedi. It's a planet of great importance to us. Padawans are supposed to make the pilgrimage here at least once before they're knighted."

"Ah."

Baze got up a few moments later to get a blanket for Chirrut, patting his shoulders as he wrapped it around him.

He felt like the endless winter had been lifted whenever he was with Baze.

Every time Chirrut stepped off of one of the ships issued from Coruscant, returning home from a mission or battle with bloodstained armor and the spring in his step noticeably absent, Baze would emerge from the clammy crowds of NiJedha and cling to Chirrut tightly. He wouldn't let go until they were safely inside the temple, in Chirrut's quarters, where they would sit in silence while Baze redressed his new cuts and wounds and brushed his hair out of his face (it really did need a trim).

Chirrut wished he could freeze time and stay in those moments forever, the Force pulsating warmly around the two of them - both a reminder of the joy Baze brought to his life and of the nagging sensation that always resided in the back of his mind, making him feel like he was forgetting something.

He never voiced his internal struggle aloud, and yet, Baze waited. For what, he did not know, since his companion was well aware of the strict rules that dictated the lives of the Jedi.

Then Baze surprised Chirrut entirely by asking the temple's council if he could be admitted to the Order as a Guardian of the Whills.

When Chirrut questioned him about it, he joked, "I'd rather spend my days doing something worthwhile than waste them talking to you." After a few seconds, he continued, saying, "Besides, it'll keep me in shape. You've been distracting me, Chir, I've let myself go."

So Chirrut had managed to set up an appointment with the council, all of whom smiled gently the whole time - they could clearly sense the affection (whether platonic or romantic) between the two. After a series of early tests, Baze was deemed Force-sensitive and was admitted to the temple.

Chirrut wished he could see Baze's smile.

 

* * *

 

"Can I feel your face?" he asked one day, unashamed by the boldness of his request.

Baze spluttered and failed to form a cohesive sentence for a few minutes - if Chirrut could see, he would've known that he was blushing deeply - but eventually managed to say yes.

Chirrut carefully took his face in his hands, roaming over it with his fingers. His companion had the same almond-shaped eyes as he did, but he had a flatter nose and a mouth that kept curving into a smile at Chirrut's touch. His hair was wild and thick despite its short length, pulled out of his face with a scrap of cloth.  _Very handsome and rugged,_ Chirrut assumed, smirking as Baze shivered under his touch. When he brushed the shell of his ear with his thumb, Baze sucked in a breath, surprised.

_Fascinating._

For his entire life, the Force had guided him. It gave him sight when his eyes had failed him as a newborn; it allowed him to almost perfectly picture his colorless surroundings in his mind and navigate through the holy city with something akin to ease. It had never failed him (except with fine details - he could never seem to hold them in his mind for a preferable amount of time), and he deemed himself blessed to have such an astonishingly valuable substitute for eyesight.

In that moment, however, Chirrut wanted more than anything to see Baze's features for himself.

 

* * *

 

They grew up.

Together, of course - there was no Chirrut without Baze, and no Baze without Chirrut. They were a pair - a set of twin blades, perfectly balanced and perfectly matched.

Baze found himself appreciating Chirrut's slender, toned build (that was far superior to his own) more and more as each day passed. His partner often defeated him in sparring matches now, quickly disarming him and even perching atop him, pinning him to the ground like a nimble bird of prey and laughing as Baze pretended to be uncomfortable.

He felt it was increasingly obvious that he wanted to surpass mere friendship with Chirrut, but his companion didn't seem to realize it.

Every time his hand wandered through the air to land on Baze's shoulder, he felt the raw  _power_ coursing through the man's veins in the form of the Force. Every time Chirrut would offer to gently untangle Baze's hair, which was steadily growing longer and longer, he would relax and lean into his touch. And every time he even made eye contact with Chirrut - even though he couldn't see - it set his soul ablaze like wildfire.

Although blind, Chirrut had perfected the art of looking right at you. It was slightly unnerving, but intriguing all the same; Baze was fascinated with his opaque, steely irises, their milky appearance spreading to the whites of his eyes. Whenever Chirrut looked at him, he seemed to be staring at something beyond him - the ripples of the Force, perhaps - yet his sightless gaze remained fixed directly on him at the same time.

Baze was sure the Force shone brightly around him every time he looked at his partner.

It was quite simple: he was in love with Chirrut Îmwe.

 

* * *

 

He struggled against the impulse to kiss Baze for years, until finally, he cracked. In what seemed like a completely irrational decision, he sought audience with Master Kaal, and then the council.

"The two of you are obviously inseparable," Master Kaal mused. "I feel that by deepening your relationship, your bond would grow deeper, and in turn, the both of you would be strengthened, as well."

"Really?" Chirrut said breathlessly. "You  _really_ think so?"

"Oh, Îmwe..."

"Thank you, master."

The next time he saw - or rather, sensed - Baze, he was at his post, his lightbow slung over his back. He heard that slight, breezy sigh that meant Baze was smiling at him, and the Guardian made some poor attempt at small talk that Chirrut found difficult to pay attention to. Normally, of course, he would've listened, but Master Kaal's words had been repeating in his head for hours, over and over again - similar to his mantra of  _I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me._

_The two of you are obviously inseparable. I feel that by deepening your relationship, your bond would grow deeper, and in turn, the both of you would be strengthened, as well._

_I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me._

_I am one with you, and you are with me._

"Chir? You okay?" Baze asked, noting his silence with a puzzled expression.

Chirrut reached forward blindly (quite literally) and pulled Baze towards him, kissing him fiercely.

 

* * *

 

It was quite simple: he leaned forward and their lips met, and the Force flared around them with the ferocity of a supernova.

 

* * *

 

"I feel so pampered," Chirrut chuckled as Baze set the steaming bowl of soup in front of him. "Shall we consider this a date?"

"This would be our twenty-first," Baze hummed, placing a wooden spoon in one of the Padawan's hands. He positioned his other hand so that his thumb was draping over the rim of the bowl, helping him pinpoint its exact location.

"But the first time you've cooked for me," Chirrut said, taking a graceful sip from his spoon. Baze watched him curiously, wondering how one could be so elegant and diligent even without vision.

"That's true," he eventually replied, remembering that it was his turn to answer. The two of them were content to eat in silence for a while until their bowls ran dry. When they were finished, Baze took the dishes to the sink and smiled to himself as the water ran over his hands.

He was happy -  _they_ were happy, and it had been like that for a long time now.

Baze walked back over to Chirrut and kissed his forehead as he sat down. Chirrut murmured something soft and pulled him down for a kiss that was full of longing.

"What was that?" Baze chuckled when he finally pulled away, Chirrut's cheek resting against his shirt.

"I said I'm nervous," Chirrut mumbled, "because Master Kaal told me earlier this week that I'm almost ready for the trials."

"Chirrut, congratulations! Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Because I'm  _nervous_."

"Oh, come here..."

 

* * *

 

"Let me help," came Baze's voice as Chirrut struggled to pull the tunic over his head. Warm hands helped Chirrut's ruddy face find the neck hole of his shirt, and he was suddenly able to breathe again.

"Thank you," he said, anxiety pooling in his stomach as Baze picked up the ceremonial cloak and guided his arms through the sleeves.

"Why are you dressed in white like the others?" Baze asked, tying Chirrut's skirts around his waist and adjusting them so that they enveloped only the sides and backs of his legs.

"Am I? I wouldn't know."

"You are."

"Oh." He thought about the last time he had attended a knighting ceremony; the whole assembly had supposedly donned white attire, save the Jedi-to-be. "It's supposed to match the color of my lightsaber, I believe," he said after a few moments.

"I see."

"I don't," Chirrut joked halfheartedly. "What does it look like?"

Baze was silent for a few moments, brushing off the ceremonial robes and pondering the question. "It looks like nothingness," he eventually said, "but I heard somewhere that it actually contains all other colors."

Chirrut laughed at that. "Ironic, don't you think?"

"No," Baze replied, leaning in for a kiss. "It suits you."

 

* * *

 

Chirrut twitched nervously as Master Kaal picked up his staff. "Stop fidgeting, Îmwe," he ordered, his voice tinged with a smile. "I could cut you if you don't sit still."

"Is that a threat?" Chirrut quipped, earning himself a playful smack to the head. He resigned himself to obedience, however, and after a few seconds, the Padawan braid fell to the ground.

He felt Baze's radiant presence somewhere in the cheering crowd, and he angled his body towards his glowing spirit as he shakily got to his feet. The Guardian was incandescent with pride, illuminated by the Force, and Chirrut couldn't help but grin.

 

* * *

 

"Congratulations, Master Jedi."

That was all Baze said when Chirrut finally returned to their conjoined quarters, but it was more than enough.

 

* * *

 

"You're nervous about something, aren't you?"

Baze sighed and stirred a little as Chirrut gently pulled a wooden brush through his mane, somehow untangling the knots Baze could never unsnarl himself.

"How did you know?"

"The Force is flickering around you," Chirrut said sweetly. "And besides, you won't stop fidgeting. You're  _antsy_. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

"Of course I didn't. You may be blind, but you often see better than those who actually  _can_ ," Baze replied, chuckling.

Chirrut smiled, releasing a little puff of air as he did so, and laid the brush down on their bedside table, his hands searching for the strips of leather he had laid there earlier. Baze twisted around from where he was seated on the bed in front of him and handed them to his companion, noticing that Chirrut's spry, lithe fingers lingered on his own as he took the leather scraps and twisted them around two locks of Baze's thick hair.

He pushed a few curls out of his face just as Chirrut moved to tuck them behind his ear. Chirrut smiled again, and Baze peered into the mirror on the wall opposite them. The sun glared through the window, but it was still cold inside the temple. There was a shawl wrapped around the Jedi's shoulders and goosebumps on his skin, but he didn't complain; he sat on their bed and fondled Baze's hair serenely, filling Baze with a warmth that Jedha's perpetual winter could never douse.

So despite his nervousness, the question was easy. Everything was quiet, save their calm, even breathing and the wind howling outside. Their quarters were tranquil, and Baze wished he could preserve that moment in his mind, reliving it over and over again at his wish.

But he broke the silence and asked the question anyway.

"Marry me?"

 

* * *

 

He hadn't been expecting that.

But he said yes anyway.

 

* * *

 

It was cheesy and cliché, but the last sentence of Chirrut's vows was, "I am one with you, and you are with me."

 

* * *

 

They packed a picnic basket and a blanket on the warmest day of the year, and they had their honeymoon on the sand dunes of Jedha.

 

* * *

 

Baze kissed Chirrut's temple and sat down at his workspace as he polished his most recent find with a cloth.

"You smell like the mines," he said, and Baze laughed.

"That might be because I went to the mines today," he retorted.

"Anything good?"

"No," Baze said with a sigh. "You forget that not everyone is as good at finding the crystals as you, Chirrut."

"It's not a matter of finding them," Chirrut replied. "It's about knowing where to look."

 

* * *

 

"I ca-"

"Chirrut, please," Baze begged, wiping sweat out of his husband's eyes.

"It hu- it hurts so much, Baze, and I ca-can't  _see_ -"

"What's happening? Chirrut, tell me what's wrong, please let me help."

"They're d-dying - all of them, blown out like candles - they're dead and it's so dark, Baze, I  _can't see_ ,  _help me_!"

"What are you talking about?" Baze said, embarrassed to hear his voice cracking. Chirrut's face was twisted with pain, and he was nearly crushing Baze's hand in his own. "Ch-Chirrut - damnit, Chirrut, my hand - who's dying?"

"All of them - all the Jedi,  _a_ _ll_ of them."

 

* * *

 

 _"Get out,"_ the Twi'lek hissed, wrenching Chirrut's hands away from the door and trying to slam it shut. "Save yourself, Chirrut - they are here!"

"Master Kaal!" Chirrut begged, and Baze watched helplessly as his husband scrabbled at the worn handles of the double doors, locked out. "Baze -  _help me_ , Baze!"

He had already turned away, ready for a legion of clones to attack at any moment.

"No," he heard Chirrut say, "no, no, no, no, no..."

He pulled on the doors of the temple in a frenzy, his quarterstaff abandoned on the ground.

"We must renounce the Force," Baze said dejectedly, watching as his husband refused to accept the death of his religion, his faith, his way of life. "You must destroy your lightsaber."

Chirrut mumbled something unintelligible, sinking dejectedly before the doors.

"I'm sorry, Chir. I'm so sorry."

 

* * *

 

Baze guided Chirrut's trembling hands to the hilt of his staff, prying the ignition buttons that controlled his double-bladed lightsaber out with a knife. Chirrut dropped the quarterstaff on the ground and took a ragged breath, burying his face in his hands.

"Chirrut..."

His husband said nothing.

 

* * *

 

The next day, they watched the mass execution of every single Jedi master residing in the temple.

Chirrut sobbed unabashedly, and as soon as his first tear fell, Baze pressed his partner's face into his shoulder to hide his weeping.

"I know you're in pain," he muttered as a cacophony of blaster bolts sounded, "but we can't be associated with the Order anymore. They will  _kill us_ , Chirrut. If we deny our training, they will leave us be, and we can guard the temple in peace."

"I can't,  _I can't_ , Baze -"

 _"You have to,"_ he insisted. "Do you want to die so young? After only two years of marriage, after dedicating your entire life to the Order? If we die now, it will be in vain. If we stay alive, we can save what's left. The Order is lost, but we may yet live."

"How can you say these things?" Chirrut choked, tearing away from Baze, his face streaked with dirt and tears. "How can you betray your own religion so easily?"

"I must protect you." Baze framed Chirrut's face with his hands and brought their foreheads together. "You won't have to say a word, Chir. I'll be doing the betraying."

Chirrut gulped and nodded, but at the sound of Kaal's strangled cry, he clutched Baze's tunic so tightly it ripped.

 

* * *

 

"And you are?" the clone asked, scanning their faces with his holopad.

"Baze Malbus and Chirrut Îmwe. We were servants in the temple," Baze lied, gritting his teeth and supporting Chirrut with his right arm. "We aren't Force-users - our only connection to the temple is that we work there."

"I think you mean  _worked_ ," the trooper said. "Past tense."

"Right."

"Checks out. Move along."

Baze exhaled, almost laughing at how free he suddenly felt - until he turned to look at Chirrut and realized that he had lunged towards the clone, his staff slamming into the soldier's chest and knocking him to the ground.

_"Chirrut, no!"_

His grip on Chirrut's arm was like a vice as he jerked him away from the soldier and ducked when they were instantly shot at. _Too slow, too slow,_ he thought, gasping and shoving two fingers into the blaster wound in his shoulder. 

Chirrut suddenly sprung free, spinning in a tight circle and sending a surge of the Force out towards his enemies. All of them were knocked off their feet, and Chirrut even lifted one of them into the air, his fingers curling and trembling with intensity.

"Chirrut, stop!" Baze bellowed, and Chirrut whirled around to face his husband, his face contorted with fury. His fist was clenched now, and the clone he was choking clawed at his throat, desperate for air. He raised his other hand and reached out, slamming three troopers into a wall and pinning them there like flies caught in a spider's web.

"Let go, Chirrut," Baze howled, unsure if he could even be heard. He raised his blaster and shot all four men, putting them out of their misery, and Chirrut suddenly stopped.

"Move!" the Guardian yelled as more clones arrived at the scene, and for some reason, Chirrut obeyed, plucking his staff from the ground and passing in front of him as they ran. Baze fired back at the soldiers and felled three more, even though he was only aiming with one hand.

_So much for an easy getaway..._

 

* * *

 

_Sand ripping down his throat every time he took a breath, running across the bright expanse and trying not to slip on the frost as blasters sounded behind them..._

Chirrut opened his eyes - even though it did absolutely nothing - and reached out for Baze, his hands scrabbling panickedly when he found nothing.

"Calm down, I'm right here," Baze's voice said above him, and his arm was nudged by the toe of his boot.

He sat up, feeling, for once, disoriented. There were no landmarks around him, nothing definite and rigid that the Force could use to tell him where he was.

"Where are we?" he asked, clearing his throat and running his tongue over his cracked, chapped lips.

"The wastes. Nothing here but sand," Baze replied, and there was something missing in his voice - it was the affection that was solely reserved for Chirrut. Now he was speaking to him as if he was an annoying haggler in the market who was trying to buy his blasters for a price worse than highway robbery - or like he was trying to get rid of a rude stranger who was calling Chirrut's blindness a weakness.

"You're mad at me."

There was a tense silence, and then Baze snapped. "Of course I'm mad at you, Chirrut! Are you  _insane_? That was a reckless, suicidal stunt you pulled back there; you nearly got us both killed, and we were  _in the clear_! And not to mention your complete loss of control, too - what the hell _was_ that, Chirrut? I've never seen you sink to that level. The Order doesn't condone pointless violence."

"You just killed seven clones."

"Yes, in  _self-defense_! I was protecting you by shooting at them, not needlessly slaughtering them. Murder isn't the Jedi way."

"You're one to talk about the Jedi way."

"Chirrut, we could've survived peacefully - we could've stayed in NiJedha and guarded the temple without being executed - but  _no_ , you had to go and -"

"I did it for the Order," Chirrut said calmly, refusing to raise his voice.

"The Order can go to hell."

They sat there in silence, tears welling up in Chirrut's eyes again. He struggled to control his breathing, reaching out with the Force for anything to distract him from the argument.

They'd reached the desert sooner than Chirrut had expected; although he had failed to notice it at the time, they had evidently been near the city's edge when he had lost whatever semblance of self-discipline he'd had left. The memory of the chase was slowly coming back to him, albeit foggy and vague. They had careened down the steps carved into the mesa, then sped across the dunes, their footprints immediately lifted away by the wind -  _how fortunate,_ he had thought;  _the Force may not be with the others any longer, but it is still with us._

Eventually, the blaster fire had ceased, and they slowed to a somber walk, traipsing over the frost-coated sand and wishing they had brought coats. When a few hours of uncomfortable silence had passed, Baze forced Chirrut to stop and dragged him underneath a crag - the rocky remains of an ancient, toppled statue depicting a Jedi - to rest.

After a few moments, Chirrut remembered that it was his turn to respond, and he slowly said, "You don't mean that."

The reply was instantaneous. "Yes, I do, Chirrut. All that matters to me is that you stay alive. I'm not concerned with the Order if it endangers you. For all I care, we can abandon it entirely. If that means we have to leave Jedha, so be it - we can go to NaJedha, or Coruscant, or Malastare,  _anywhere_ \- but I swear to you, I will keep you safe."

Chirrut sat back on his haunches and said nothing, trying his best to ignore the cold.

"You're freezing," Baze observed, his voice soft again. He removed his cloak, tied it around Chirrut's shoulders, and pulled the hood over his head, gently brushing his temples with his thumbs as he did so.

"And you're bleeding."

Baze grunted and ripped part of his sleeve off, wrapping it around his shoulder to staunch the blood.

"I don't know how you're going to keep me alive if I must live without the Order," Chirrut remarked as his husband took the strip of cloth between his teeth and pulled, forming a knot. "You know I can't continue without it."

"And I can't continue without you," Baze responded. "So if we have to, we'll find someplace else to honor the Force in peace. We'll follow the path it lays out for us."

"You don't understand -"

"The Force led me to you, Chirrut, and it'll lead us to safety and a new home -"

 _"I have to stay here!"_ he shouted.

The Guardian of the Whills faltered. "If we stay, we will die."

"If I  _leave_ , I will die," Chirrut fumed. "Jedha is my home. I've been all over the galaxy, but I've always come back. It's been the beginning of everything for me - it's where I was born, where I was inducted into the Order, where I met you. The Force was discovered here, and it is as important to me as you are. That's all that matters."

"The Force is all that matters to you?"

"Did you not hear a single word I said?" Chirrut said harshly. He felt Baze recoil from him, but he reached for him all the same. "I am not the only thing that needs protecting. The temple needs me to stay - the Force is practically screaming at me to remain here."

"How do I know you won't lose control again?" Baze asked.

"That's a risk you'll have to take," was his bitter reply. "I can't promise you anything; all I know is that I'm meant to stay here.  _With you._ You mean more to me than a thousand lifetimes spent being guided by the Force. How can you not know that?"

Baze shuddered, sighing roughly. Chirrut expected him to reply with a harsh retort, but instead, his husband wrapped his arms around him, trembling.

He had only ever seen Baze cry on their wedding day, but now he wept into Chirrut's shoulder, overcome with grief.

Chirrut returned his embrace, taking care not to touch Baze's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said, his mouth pressing into Baze's hair. "You're right, we could've died. I was foolish, and I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," Baze muttered wetly.

 

* * *

 

They stayed.

 

* * *

 

"Do you hear anything?"

"Nothing," Chirrut said, his head aching. "They must have taken all of the ones on the sixth floor."

Baze slumped against the wall of the alleyway and closed his eyes, frustrated. "Should we sneak into the temple? We could go down to the mines and see if they've missed anything."

The Jedi shook his head, even though Baze knew he wanted more than anything to return to their former home. "We'd be better off going west," he said glumly, "and looking there."

"Should we?"

"Anything to keep the crystals from the Empire, Baze."

 

* * *

 

"You have lost your faith."

He didn't deny it.

Chirrut was outside in the paradoxical coldness of Jedha - how could a desert climate be constantly freezing? - sitting tiredly on the steps below the doorway. Baze stayed inside the house, boiling a pot of water in preparation for dinner.

"It was only a matter of time, Chirrut."

"No, it wasn't," Chirrut said, getting to his feet, entering the house, and uncharacteristically slamming the door. "When you are admitted to the Order, you give yourself to the Force for life. If you go back on  _this_ vow, how will I know that you won't go back on the vow you made to me all those years ago?"

"Do you  _really_ think I would leave you?" Baze spat, turning the stove off with a snap and pulling the pot off of the burner.

"After you abandoned our way of life so easily? Yes," Chirrut said, a slight tremor in his voice.

"If there is anything that the Force still shows you, it must be that I will never leave your side. My love for you knows no bounds, Chirrut, but my love for the Force does. If it really was and is protecting us, guiding us through our lives, then why did it let every single Jedi and Padawan in the  _universe_ be targeted and killed? Why did it allow even the younglings to die? Why did it let your own master be executed in front of you?"

"It protected the two of us," his husband insisted. "We were meant to stay as guardians of the temple - the rest were not. They were destined to sacrifice their lives for the Order -"

"The Order was flawed!" Baze exclaimed, setting a spoon down on the counter much harder than he needed to. "The Jedi claimed they were peacekeepers, but they brought war everywhere they went. You fought in the Clone Wars - you know this as well as I do. They followed the senate like the mindless drones they fought against, and their chancellor turned out to be a  _Sith_. They brought about their own demise; you can't deny that."

"We always fought for what was right, Baze - we fought to keep the peace -"

"Chirrut, how can you be so  _blind_?"

The room was deathly silent, filling Baze with a sense of trepidation. Chirrut stood in front of the door, his fists clenched at his sides.

Then he turned on his heel, snatched up his staff from where it was leaning against the wall, and left the house.

He returned a few hours later, his closely-cropped hair wet and darker than usual from the rain pouring outside.

Baze sat with him on the bed once he had dried off, simply holding his hand.

"I still believe in the Force," he told Chirrut. "But I don't trust in it anymore."

"How are we supposed to live together?" Chirrut asked, sounding so inexplicably tired.

"We just will."

 

* * *

 

"Baze?  _Baze?_ " Chirrut cried from the bedroom. He rose from his chair instantly, dropping the broken blaster scope he had been trying to fix onto the table.

"I'm here - what is it, what's wrong?" he asked, standing at the side of the bed and grabbing Chirrut's hands as he tossed and turned wildly, still caught in the throes of sleep.

"Something's here. It's above the city, watching, ready to strike at any moment. It's stealing the temple's treasures, plundering the mines of kyber -"

"It's alright," Baze said, hushing the monk as he stopped struggling beneath the sheets. "There's nothing here. It was just a dream."

"Look out the window," Chirrut told him, still trembling.

He grunted and did as his husband asked, crossing to the window of their small house and observing the sky. "It's still dark out, Chir. Nothing but the night."

"There aren't any stars," came the horrified, whispered reply.

 

* * *

 

The star destroyer didn't move for six years.

 

* * *

 

"Someone in this city is surrounded by the Force," Chirrut told Baze. "Do you feel it?"

He knew Baze was reluctant to admit it, but he heard his chin chafe against his armor as he nodded.

 

* * *

 

He hadn't heard the Kyber's Call in nearly twenty years.

"Trade that necklace for a glimpse into your future?" he called, making sure he was projecting his voice just enough for the girl with a crystal slung round her neck to hear. He could feel her turn towards him, and, staring off into the distance, he added, "Yes, I'm speaking to you."

Even over the din of the bustling marketplace, her steps were audible to him as she approached. "How did you know I was wearing a necklace?"

"For that answer, you must pay," he informed her.

He felt Baze smile, a few paces behind him in the alley.

"What do you know of kyber crystals?"

"My father," the girl said a little breathlessly, "he said they powered the Jedi lightsabers."

Someone else - a man, anxious and irritated and extremely on edge - approached the girl, urging her to leave: "Jyn, come on, let's go."

The two of them retreated, but not before Chirrut called out, "The strongest stars have hearts of kyber."

 

* * *

 

Baze sat next to him on the stoop and entwined his fingers with Chirrut's. "Then you," he said, pressing a gentle kiss to his husband's forehead, "are the strongest star of all."

 

* * *

 

"Let them pass in peace!" Chirrut called, emerging from a doorway to address the stormtroopers gathered around the two rebels and their (obviously stolen) droid. He held his staff out in front of him and tapped it on the ground a few times, feigning helplessness. "Let them pass in peace," he repeated. "The Force is with me, and I am one with the Force - and I fear nothing, for all is as the Force wills it."

"Hey!" one of the mindless soldiers cried. "Stop right there!"

"He's blind."

"Is he deaf? I said stop right there!"

Chirrut smiled.

 

* * *

 

"You almost shot me!"

"You're welcome," Baze growled, lowering his blaster and making his way towards Chirrut, who found a place to sit and rest on the shell of a dead stormtrooper.

"Clear of hostiles," the surprisingly expressive droid said to its master. Noting the Imperial crest on its shoulders, Baze raised his blaster again, and it cried, "One hostile!"

"He's with us!" the Force-sensitive girl Chirrut had spoken to earlier said, jumping forward with a panicked expression on her face.

"They're alright," Chirrut told Baze, waving a hand dismissively.

The girl held her handcuffs up to the droid, and it unlocked them for her as she thanked it. Baze grunted and walked back to Chirrut, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You're not so young anymore," he teased. "You're already exhausted."

"You're older than me," came the sharp reply, and Baze chuckled.

"Is he a Jedi?" one of the others suddenly asked, and Baze looked up at them, still smiling.

"There are no Jedi here anymore," he answered; "only dreamers like this fool."

"The Force did protect me," Chirrut answered, grinning.

" _I_ protected you!"

 

* * *

 

"Are you kidding me?" Chirrut yelled as one of Saw Gerrera's Partisans pulled a dirty sack over his head. "I'm  _blind_!"

 

* * *

 

Above the Holy City, Chirrut sensed the star destroyer's engines igniting.

He said nothing of it, continuing along with the blindfolded party with Baze's hand clutched tightly in his own.

 

* * *

 

"I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me. I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me. I am one with -"

"You pray?" Baze asked, his tone goading.

"- the Force, and the Force is with me."

"He's praying for the door to open," his husband told Captain Andor.

Chirrut paused his chant to respond: "It bothers him because he knows it's possible." Baze shook his head and laughed as Chirrut continued. "Baze Malbus was once the most devoted Guardian of us all!"

"I'm beginning to think the Force and I have different priorities," the captain snapped. Chirrut sensed that the man was pulling something from his boot - a lockpick, perhaps, or maybe a detonator?

"Relax, captain," he said. "We've been in worse cages than this one."

"This is a first for me."

"There is more than one sort of prison, captain. I sense that you carry yours wherever you go."

Baze settled down next to him on the floor and took his hand as Chirrut rested his head on Baze's shoulder.

 

* * *

 

"Who's the one in the next cell?"

"What? Where?" Baze asked, getting to his feet again and going to the hole in the wall that Chirrut had noticed the moment they'd been shoved into the cell. The absence of wall in that general vicinity of the room had attracted his attention immediately, as the Force tended not to gloss over major details when it relayed its rendition of his surroundings to him.

"An Imperial pilot," Baze said.

"Pilot?" Cassian Andor repeated.

"I'm going to kill him."

"No, no, no, wait!" the captain cried, running over to Baze and pulling on his arm. Chirrut sat idly, knowing that his husband would calm down in a few moments.

"Come here!" Baze yelled at the man in the adjacent cell.

 _"No!"_ Cassian shouted. "Back off. Back off!"

Baze grumbled as he sat back down.

"Violence is not the Jedi way, Baze," Chirrut teased, at the expense of a light smack.

 

* * *

 

"Get the pilot, we need him," Cassian ordered as the floor trembled beneath him.

"All right," Baze grinned, rummaging through the pile of their confiscated items, "I'll get the pilot."

He approached the other cell, grinned, and said, "Pilot!"

"No," the man protested, "no, no -"

He cocked his gun and shot the lock; the door opened and the pilot stumbled out, muttering his thanks. Baze returned to the stack of weapons and pulled Chirrut's staff free, tossing it to him without warning.

The monk caught it without turning - he always did.

 

* * *

 

"Baze, tell me. All of it? The whole city?"

Silence.

_"Tell me -"_

"All of it," Baze told him.

He let his head fall back against the wall of the ship with a dull  _thud_.

"Chirrut..."

"It's... alright," he made himself say. "If this is what the Force has in store for us -"

His voice cracked, and he couldn't continue. Baze held him as he wept silently, a hand pressed over his mouth.

 

* * *

 

"Get to work fixing our comms," Cassian snapped, and K-2SO lowered its head, a little put off. "All I want to do right now is get a handle on what we're up against, so we're going to go very small and very carefully up the rise and see what's what."

He turned to Bodhi and nodded. "Let's get out of here."

When the door of the ship was closed again, Chirrut chirped up, saying, "Does he look like a killer?"

Baze chuckled, already aware of what his husband was getting at. "No," he answered, "he has the face of a friend."

"Who are you talking about?" Jyn asked.

"Captain Andor."

"Why do you ask that? What do you mean  _does he look like a killer?_ "

"The Force moves darkly near a creature that's about to kill," Chirrut explained, and Baze knew he shouldn't smile, but he couldn't help it.

"His weapon  _was_ in the sniper configuration," K-2SO added. Chirrut squeezed Baze's hand.

Jyn left.

After a few minutes, Chirrut stood, gripped his staff, and opened the door, clambering outside.

"Where are you going?" Baze shouted over the torrential rain, standing in the doorway.

"I'm going to follow Jyn," Chirrut called over his shoulder. "Her path is clear."

"Alone? Good luck!"

"I don't need luck - I have you," the Jedi told him.

Baze sighed.

Chirrut tore after Jyn, his way illuminated by the crystals embedded in his staff, and Baze followed him, his blaster at the ready. Eadu's rain was heavy and unshakable, coating the rocks with a glossy sheen. Although he would never admit it, Baze was praying that Chirrut's footing was steady; if he fell and Baze didn't grab him in time, he might as well jump off with him.

When the base was in sight, Baze stopped and crouched behind an outcrop, resting his blaster on top of it. He peered through the scope and scanned the skyline for Cassian or Bodhi, but he found neither.

"We've come too far," he told Chirrut, panicking for a moment when he couldn't immediately find his husband.

"Patience, my friend," Chirrut said, turning away from the cliff's edge and gripping Baze's shoulder.

 

* * *

 

 _Now,_ the Force told him, and he released the lightbow's bolt into the sky. A resounding explosion told him he had hit his target.

 

* * *

 

"It is likely we will die," Chirrut remarked nonchalantly as they prepared for Scarif, re-tightening the straps on his gauntlets.

"That's a cheerful way to look at it," Baze grunted.

"Are you ready for us to die, Baze?"

He paused, then said, "As long as I go first."

Chirrut smiled. "I'll beat you," he joked, "even if it's the last thing I do."

Baze grinned and leaned in for a kiss -  _perhaps the last,_ he thought, then shook his head slightly. He wouldn't let himself think about that until it was much too late.

 

* * *

 

For a moment, he was on Jedha again.

The sand was fine and too beachy, but if he looked past that - figuratively, of course - he could pretend that he was lying on Jedha's dunes, beyond the limits of the city. There was no devastating cold, of course, but a tropical heat instead; he ignored it and combed his mind for a moment spent with Baze out on the grainy ridges. His memory offered him nothing but  _sand ripping down his throat every time he took a breath, running across the bright expanse and trying not to slip on the frost as blasters sounded behind them..._

And the honeymoon, of course - the picnic and the sex on the blanket and the soft kisses trailing down Chirrut's body - but mostly the chase.

He attempted to inhale, but his breath hitched. There was a harrowing pain in his chest. His ears were still ringing from the blast, and he opened his mouth, calling out for Baze in what sounded like the hint of a whisper (he only realized afterwards that he had been screaming).

Baze was at his side instantly, practically wailing his name. The agony in his voice sent even more pain shooting through Chirrut's body, and he reached up - blindly - to caress Baze's cheek, to soothe his aching, cracking voice. The warrior's fingers closed around his hand, sweaty and bloody and worn, but comforting all the same.

"Chirrut, don't go - don't go. I'm here... I'm here..."

"I beat you," he croaked, smiling sadly.

_"Chirrut, please -"_

"It's okay," he reassured him, "it's okay. Look for the Force -"

"- Chirrut -"

"- and you will always find me."

Baze sobbed, mumbling Chirrut's mantra through his tears: "The Force is with me, and I am one with the Force. The Force is with me, and I am one with the Force. The Force is with me... and I am one with the Force."

Chirrut could feel himself fading, but he clung to the ritual that he and his husband had repeated for so many years.

"I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me," he murmured, content even in his last moments. "I am one with you... and you are one with me."

The Force wrenched itself away from him, and he was collapsing in on himself, a dying star with a heart of kyber. Life seeped out of him in waves, and he shivered.

Then he was still.

 

* * *

 

Baze died helplessly.

His suicide run was rash and thoughtless - Chirrut was sure to chastise him for it later - but he could not imagine existing in a universe without that stupid, imbecilic, moronic, kind, thoughtful, beautiful fool.

He didn't know if Bodhi's transmission had gone through or not. In fact, he was unsure if Chirrut's death had even meant anything, if his sacrifice had been in vain or if it had saved an entire galaxy.

He wanted it to end - this terrible place, this Chirrut-less planet, this Chirrut-less  _universe_.

~~The last thing he ever saw was his husband's crumpled body, eyes open and truly unseeing.~~

 

* * *

 

_"Baze?"_

_Chirrut opened his eyes and sucked in an awestruck breath, overwhelmed by the colors surrounding him._

_Even though he had never seen it before, he knew that he was on Coruscant, standing in front of the five-spired Jedi temple he had visited many times before. He knew it had been destroyed in the anarchy of Order Sixty-six, but now it stood fully intact before him, as magnificent as ever._

_"Chirrut!" someone cried behind him, and he turned to see a tall man with clean, tan skin and brown eyes crinkled in a smile. He was wearing a dark red tunic that fit his broad frame perfectly and cut off just below the elbow, displaying a set of astonishingly toned muscles. For a split second, Chirrut had no idea who he was - and then realization him like a wall._

_"I've been looking for you everywhere," Baze Malbus said, walking towards him with a wide grin on his face. "Have you been here this whole time?"_

_He stopped a few feet away, surprised by the tears running down Chirrut's face. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?"_

_"It's just," Chirrut choked, "it's just that you're so beautiful."_

_Baze's smile grew even wider, and the sight was so dazzling that Chirrut broke down completely, covering his face. Almost immediately, he felt his husband's warm arms around him, and he relaxed, leaning into the embrace and dropping his hands._

_"I feel like a teenager again," he muttered. Baze chuckled and dipped down for a kiss, and Chirrut tilted his head to meet him, his hands pressing into Baze's back._

_After what felt like an eternity, Chirrut pulled away and nestled his head in the crook of his husband's neck. They stood there for a few moments, swaying slightly as the breeze trailed by and the birds sang._

_Somewhere nearby, the chiming of kyber crystals could be heard._

_"Look," Baze said after a while, nudging Chirrut. "Someone's waiting for us."_

_He turned to see a Twi'lek about halfway up the steps of the temple._

_"Master Kaal!"_

_"Îmwe," came the response. "Come! A feast has been prepared, and all of us are waiting."_

_Together, the two of them stepped up onto the stone staircase. "Ready?" Chirrut asked, grinning at Baze._

_"As long as I go first," came the reply._

**Author's Note:**

> I started working on this fic the day _Rogue One_ came out. It's a huge source of pride for me, and I'd love it if you left kudos or feedback!


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